Rabid Dogs and Nightingales
by celticwanderer
Summary: Sansa Stark is not amused with The Hound's mockery of her attempted courtesies, so she decides to show her thanks in a different way...the lady's gift.


It had been one week since the riots. The bruise on Sansa's cheek turned from red, to black and blue, to a light fading purple. Out of all the horrors she experienced in King's Landing, that was probably the worst, next to her father's death.

The three men that pushed her and tore at her clothes had a look of hatred and desperation in their eyes. A look she knew she could not reason with. She was certain she would be raped and possibly killed...but then he came.

The Hound, mean and violent like a rabid dog. Only blood could quench his unimaginable thirst. That's what everyone said, but Sansa didn't believe it. If he didn't come to help her, no on else would've. He could have taken her for himself, but didn't. Instead, he picked her up and carried her to safety. When he put her down, she heard Tyrion congratulate him on a job well done. He responded with "I didn't do it for you."

With all the maids fussing over her, Sansa doubted he knew she heard him. What did he mean by that? Who did he do it for? These questions were left unanswered, and life continued on as normal in the Red Keep.

She was raised not only a highborn, but a well mannered lady. The Hound saved her and she meant to thank him. It wasn't until a few days after the riots, she was walking down the hall on her way to the garden. The vast greenery was the closest thing to nature she could find in King's Landing, and it reminded her of home. She would sit there, for hours sometimes, letting the smells surround her, pretending she was in Winterfell underneath a weirwood tree.

She heard his thunderous footsteps on the other end of the corridor. Her throat went dry. His large mass and cocky grin intimidating, but she stopped him nonetheless.

"Beg pardon, ser. I should have come to you sooner...to thank you for saving me." She confessed.

She received a chuckle and mockery from the Hound. Nothing more. She had hoped he would take her words seriously. What a foolish girl I am. Flustered after his cruelties, Sansa stormed back to her chambers, leaving the Hound watching her as she left.

She slammed the door and stepped onto her large balcony. Her hands rested on top of the stone railing and she gazed at the sea. It was midday, and the sun shone brightly down on the water, casting golden shimmers in the waves. She closed her eyes and rocked back and forth with the sounds of the tide, letting it calm her. Her long red hair flowed freely in the breeze. A deep breath escaped her lips. She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much. Joffrey and Cersei treated her poorly, and yet it was the Hound's words that hurt her most of all. Mayhaps it was because Joffrey and Cersei were cruel people and were always going to treat her with hatred. The Hound was different. Sansa saw a side of him on many occasions, a good side. Good people were impossible to find in King's Landing and she guessed she found his mockery of her so bothersome because she wanted the one good person to think she was a good person too. He always barked at her not to chirp her empty courtesies at him, mayhaps she should show him her thanks in a different way.

An idea rang loud in her mind, and Sansa opened her eyes. Her hand flew in front of her face, shielding her eyes from the sun. She inhaled the salty air once more before stepping back inside her chambers. She paced around her room. To the bed, and back around to her vanity. Back and forth. Back and forth. The sun began it's decent as she continued pacing. If he thought he words were so empty, she wondered what he'd think of a gift. It wasn't like Sansa could go to town and shop for something. Even if she could, the Hound didn't seem like the type who would be pleased with something new and shiny.

She stopped short, when it came to her. Of course! She thought. It was a tradition in Winterfell...Her mother called it, the lady's gift, one of her favorite bedtime tales. She pestered her mother to recite it every night, much to Arya's displeasure. Ladies and peasants alike would line the streets before the knights rode off to fight valiantly. Each knight would chose one lady, or peasant from the crowd and ask for a gift. It was always a piece of clothing, the more intimate, the luckier it was said to be. The knight would seek out who he thought to be the mot beautiful in the crowd, and if the blushing lady was pleased, she would present him with her gift. Knights would either stuff it in their breast plate over their hearts, tie it to their sword handles, or around their wrists. Upon the battles end, if the knight returned, unharmed and gave the same lady a rose, she would be forever known as not only the most beautiful, but a lady blessed with good fortune and luck.

Sansa thought the gift appropriate to give to him. He showed bravery toward her, and she heard whispers of Stannis coming to attack soon, and The Hound, being the King's sworn shield, and a most fearsome warrior, would surely fight in the battle.

Sansa looked to the large wooden wardrobe in the corner of her room. Her delicate fingers pulled the golden knobs, opening the wardrobe and revealing her gowns. All of them new, Cersei liked her to dress in the latest styles and cuts. Sansa couldn't risk upsetting her by cutting a strip from the bottom of one, ruining it. She tapped her finger against her lip. A knock at her chamber door took her from her thoughts.

"Come in." Sansa cautioned, hoping it wasn't the lioness, or her cub.

The door opened, and Shae popped her head in. Sansa breathed relief, getting a giggle out of the foreign beauty.

"Did you think I was Cersei?" She questioned.

"If not her, someone bearing bad news." Sansa confessed. She took a seat on the beautifully carved chair, with a velvet cushion sitting in front of her vanity.

Shae waltzed over to her and began brushing her hair. "What's on your mind my lady?" Shae asked.

Shae was one of the few people Sansa somewhat trusted in King's Landing. She had helped her when she had her first blood, and was always there to share advice. Sansa didn't believe her to be one of Cersei's spies, but she did think there was something going on with her and Tyrion Lannister.

"I've decided to give someone a present." Sansa admitted.

"A present?" Shae's tone was excited. "May I ask who it's for?" Sansa blushed. "Always such a lady." Shae teased. "Alright, you don't have to tell me, but do say what it is or I'll go mad with curiosity."

Sansa smiled and told her the tale of the lady's gift. She explained the small kindnesses the unnamed man had done for her, and it was fitting seeing as Stannis was coming to attack. By the time she was finished, Shae moved from standing behind her, brushing her hair, to on the floor in front of her, listening as a child would to their mother's story.

"We must pick something wonderful!" Shae jumped up and grabbed Sansa's hands. The girls laughed and spun around. "Alright, we should choose a dress with emerald or violet fabric. Those colors look best on you." She observed.

"I can't rip on of my gowns. Cersei will know, even if I made up a good excuse, she would tell Joffrey and I'd be punished." Sansa cursed.

Shae's shoulders slumped at the unfortunate news. "Alright..." Her eyes sparkled with an idea. She hurried over to Sansa's dresser and opened the top drawer, pulling out Sansa's small clothes.

"What are you doing?" Sansa yelped, rushing over to Shae, stuffing her undergarments back in the drawer.

"You said the more intimate the clothing, the luckier it is! And you can't tear your gowns so it's perfect." Shae concluded, and reopened the drawer.

Sansa looked at the silky under garments. "I can't..." She blushed bright red.

"Why not?" If you are going to so much trouble to give this man a gift, surely you must like him?" Shae flirted.

"I-I don't like him. I only wish to thank him properly. Joffrey is my one true love." Sansa stuttered.

Shae put her hand on her hip, and gave her a knowing look. She didn't buy Sansa's words for one second. "Let's at least look at them. Maybe once you see they're not so scary you'll change your mind." Shae grabbed a pair of silky white small clothes from the drawer and waved them in Sansa's face.

Sansa laughed and grabbed it from Shae. "Fine!" She shrieked.

Shae smiled and they went through her drawers, pulling out different under garments, white and red silks, purple and cream lace...

"We need a color this man would wear." Shae pondered. "Ah!" She fished out a beautiful black piece. It was made of silk softer then any of the other garments.

Sansa fingered the material. It was soft. "Alright." Sansa said, defeated. She took the garment and went over to her bed. Shae put the scattered garments back in their drawer

and sat next to Sansa.

"So, now you just cut a strip out and hand it to him?" Shae asked curiously.

"Yes...but that seems rather plain. I want to add a personal touch." Sansa thought out loud. She pulled the drawer in her nightstand opened and retrieved a small sewing kit her mother gave her before she left for King's Landing,

"A lady must always know how to mend her husband's clothes." Catelyn told her.

Inside the case was an assortment of needles in order from thick to thinnest. A few small rolls of thread and small scissors. Sansa decided on the yellow thread. In her lessons, she remembered learning black and yellow were the colors of House Clegane. She had sewing, and needlepoint lessons wit her septa for years, so sticking the thread through the small hole in the needle was easy. She stuck the needle in the black silk and slowly pulled out, keeping her index and middle fingers around the thread making sure it came out straight. Shae tried to get a closer look.

"No peaking!" Sansa squealed.

"Fine, but at least do this over there so I can finish your hair." Shae begged.

Sansa agreed, she couldn't be late for dinner. She moved her supplies over to the vanity and continued sewing, while Shae styled her hair in a Southern up do.

At dinner Sansa sat with her hands in her lap. She couldn't stop fidgeting, she was so nervous. She responded to Joffrey's every word, with the same phrases she knew pleased him. For the most part, he left her alone turning his attentions to mocking poor Tyrion with his mother.

The Hound stood against a wall, and Sansa had to make a conscious effort not to stare at him. His left side faced her, so she couldn't see the burns. She noticed he had Northern features, and was rather...handsome. His head turned in her direction and she looked away immediately. This happened five times during the meal. Recently he informed her he had been ordered to take turns guarding both her and Joffrey, and she knew he would escort her back to her chambers.

"Your company bores me tonight, you may leave once you're finished." Joffrey waved his hand at her.

Sansa ate the remaining honey soaked meat and mashed potatoes as quickly as she could with out seeming obvious. "My King, I am finished and shall retire for the evening." She informed Joffrey.

He barely glanced at her. "Wear something prettier tomorrow, or I shall have you stripped for the whole dinner." He sneered.

"Yes, your grace. Goodnight." Sansa sighed before walking towards the doors.

She heard his footsteps behind her. Every step he took matched her beating heart. She took the gift out from her dress while he was behind her, so she didn't have to remove it in front of him. I will give it to him when were in front of my chamber. She thought.

The walk seemed long, and the silence between them only made the tension grow. Finally, they turned the corner and approached her door. She stood there, her hand hovering over the handle, too nervous to go through with it.

"What are you waiting for, girl?" The Hound was talking about the door, but Sansa took his specific words as a sign. She turned, keeping the gift folded and hidden in her clasped hands.

"When I thanked you for saving me the other day, you mocked me and thought my praise empty." She began. Her throat was dry and her voice unstable. "Your words hurt me. You saved me and I want you to know how much it meant to me." He stood silently in front of her, taken a back by her statement. "I wish to give you something." She breathed, her eyes on her hands.

"So that's why you were staring at me all night." He rasped.

Sansa shuddered with embarrassment. She hoped he didn't notice. "I wasn't-I"

He cut her off. "Is it one of your pretty songs?" He asked.

"No." Sansa opened her hands and held out the gift.

The Hound looked at the silky black strip of fabric. Sansa had sewn the edges so it didn't look frayed. It was a nice straight line. He took it from her and took a closer look. At the bottom, a small bird and a dog were sewn into the blackness with yellow thread.

"What is this?" He questioned, still observing the present.

"A token for luck given to knights before battle." Sansa explained, getting the courage to look at him.

He crumbled the gift in his hand and turned his gaze to her. "I thought I told you, I am not one of the knights in your pretty songs."

"I know." Sansa's eyes began to well up with tears. "But you have shown me kindness, and I wished to return the favor."

"I have done you no favors. You're still living in your golden cage, forced to chirp your golden courtesies to the lions. The only time you'll find peace will be in death" He snarled, boring his grey eyes into her blue ones. "Show no one kindness girl, for you shall not receive any in this place."

She didn't want to hear another word. Her eyes stung and she turned, opening the door to her chambers, shutting him and the rest of the world out for the night. She crawled into bed and tried not to cry, but the tears spilled silently down her cheeks. How dare he insult her again! How dare she allow him to make her so upset! She tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to sleep.

Enraged, Sansa jumped out of bed and wrapped her silk robe around her body. She tip toed to her door and opened it slowly. Her heart dropped when she saw him still there guarding her door.

"Go back to your nest little bird." He grunted.

His soulless words gave her courage to speak her mind. "Give it back." Sansa demanded.

"Give what back?" He was toying with her.

"You know what." She answered. "The token."

"No." He barked. "It's mine."

Her face grew red with fury, and she swung the door open. "I said give it back!" She ordered.

He turned around with a laugh, equip with a snippy comeback but his face changed when he looked at her. In the process of opening the door in such a huff, Sansa's robe had come open, revealing her thin nightgown. The cream dress went down to her knees, and two pink nipples were visible in the candlelit hall. Sandor swallowed hard. Once Sansa realized what he was looking at she clutched her robe tightly around her.

"The little bird is shy now?" Sandor teased, but his voice cracked. Sansa had nothing else to say. She had come out to confront him, but she only made herself look ridiculous. He slowly lifted his hand and ran his fingers through her red hair. She stood still, too nervous to move. The feeling of his hands so close to her skin made her feel drunk. "go to bed little bird." He groaned, breaking the spell.

For the second time in one night, she shut her door on The Hound and crawled back into bed. Sleep came easy this time because it was the only way she could escape her humiliation.

Four days passed, and they said nothing to each other. Walks to and from her chamber were silent and uncomfortable.

Stannis' army was finally upon them. All of King's Landing was armed and ready. As part of her duties, Sansa went to the throne room before the kings guard went outside and wished Joffrey good luck.

He showed off his new sword which he named Heart Eater. She belittled him by telling him how her brother Robb was always where the fighting was the thickest and asked if he would be too. In return, he made her kiss his sword and told her one day, she would kiss Robb Stark's blood off Heart Eater. As he walked past her, she prayed it would be the last time she saw him alive.

The Hound followed behind Joffrey. He stopped in front her of as they waited for the doors to open. He reached for his shoulder piece, making sure it was on good and tight. His sleeve went up his arm as he reached back and Sansa's heart almost jumped out of her chest. Her gift was tied to his large hairy wrist. He must have sensed her stare, because he looked at her, and saw her eyes on his wrist.

She wanted to say something, but Joffrey was too close. Instead, she looked at him, hoping he would return her gaze, but he already was. No words were spoken between them, they understood what was silently said. The light from the flames outside grew on his face as the doors opened. Unified footsteps echoed through out the room as the men marched to battle. They took one last look at each other before The Hound made his way outside. She watched him go until he became a blur in the darkness. She hoped he would return alive.

The women of the Red Keep were kept in the high tower during the battle. The man who executed her beloved father, Ser Illyn Payne stood guard by the door. His presence made Sansa uneasy. She distracted herself by talking to Shae, and praying with the other ladies. Cersei, seated higher than the rest of the woman, called for Sansa to come sit by her. She reluctantly took a seat by Cersei and was offered wine.

"Drink." Cersei offered.

"I'm not thirsty, your grace." Sansa replied, awkwardly holding the golden goblet, decorated with rubies along the rim.

"So..." Cersei raised her eye brow. "I do not offer you water. Drink, girl!"

Sansa began drinking immediately. The wine tasted like plum and blackberries. Sansa preferred sweeter wines. Cersei downed her goblet and held it out. A plump servant girl stood by, ready with a bottle, and poured until Cersei's cup was full. Sansa took another sip, so as to avoid being the center of Cersei's frustration.

"Is your flower still in bloom, little dove?" Cersei persisted.

"Yes, your grace." Sansa blushed at such an uncomfortable question.

"Fitting, isn't it? The men bleed out there and the women bleed in here." Cersei finished. Sansa forced a smile and drank again. "What were you doing over there?"

"Praying." Sansa answered.

"You're perfect, aren't you?" Cersei sneered. "Praying? What are you praying for?"

"For the Gods to have mercy on us all." Sansa admitted.

"Oh? On all of us?" Cersei pondered.

"Yes, your grace." Sansa was not in the mood for Cersei's games.

"Even me?" She accused.

"Of course, your grace." Sansa laughed.

"Even Joffrey?" Cersei taunted.

Sansa took a moment before answering, remember her empty words she said to keep them happy. "Joffrey is my-"

"Oh, shut up, you little fool. Praying for the gods to have mercy on us all? The gods have no mercy, that's why they are gods. My father told me that when he caught me praying. My mother had just died, you see. I didn't really understand the concept of death. The finality of it. I thought if I prayed very very hard, the gods would return her to me. I was four." Cersei took a large gulp of her wine.

"Your father doesn't believe in the Gods?" Sansa askd, not sure how to respond.

"He believes in them, he just doesn't like them very much." Another gulp.

The night continued like that. Every so often Sansa was able to sneak away from Cersei, and join Shae and the rest of the ladies, but Cersei would always call her back like some pet.

Large booms were heard through out the high tower and the walls shook. The ladies cowered, ducking low, covering their heads. Cersei only laughed. Sansa ran to Shae for comfort.

Lancell Lannister, a thin young man, with the trademark Lannister yellow curls walked in, covered in dirt and blood. He announced Stannis' men were in the castle walls. The ladies starting screaming and crying. Sansa looked around, happy at the news in Stannis' favor, but scared at the chaos.

Shae grabbed her by the shoulders. "Run to your rooms, don't open the door for anyone." The fear in her eyes made Sansa nervous.

"But what about you?" Sansa cried.

Shae lifted her dress revealing a dagger tied around her thigh. "No one's raping me tonight. Go!"

Sansa started toward the door. Ser Illyn Payne and Cersei were distracted. This was her chance. She ran out of the tower, unseen and made her way to her chamber. As she ran down the hall, she could hear the screams of men. A horrible smell crept up her nose. Acid. She turned the corner and ran down the open corridor. She stopped when she saw it. The sky... It was bright green. Ships in the sea were broken apart and set ablaze. On the grounds below the castle she saw the fighting. Men swinging swords at each other, cutting off limbs left and right. Sansa had never seen anything so horrible. She tore her gaze away from the bloody scene and bolted to her rooms.

Safely inside, she bared the door shut with trembling hands. She caught her breath, and stepped away from the door. A lantern was lite on her night stand. She picked it up and noticed her doll next to it. She remembered the day her father gave it to her. He had been ordered by Cersei to have Lady, her beautiful direworlf killed. Arya's dog attacked Joffrey and since they couldn't find her wolf, they figured Sansa's would do. Her father pleaded, but it was no use. She didn't talk to him for days afterwards. He gave her the doll as an apology, but she called it stupid and walked away. She wished she could talk to him. Tell him she knew he was forced to kill Lady. It wasn't his fault. The Lannister's were cruel and unreasonable. She understood that now. She stroked the dolls hair, but a deep raspy voice startled her, and she dropped it.

"The lady's gift." The voice in the darkness said.

Sansa spun around and saw a large mass sitting on the floor against the foot of her bed. "What?" She asked.

"My grandfather told me a story when I was a boy, or knights asking for gifts before riding off to battle...cunts." Sandor lifted himself off the floor. "Why did you give this to me?" He snarled, staring at the gift around his wrist.

"As a thank you." Sansa trembled.

Enraged, The Hound pushed her against a wall. She smelled the blood on his skin, and wine on his breath. "Please, Ser you're hurting me."

"Answer me little bird! Why!" He yelled.

Tears came down Sansa's face. "I-I don't know!"

The Hound eased his hold on her, but still kept her between the wall and himself. "Sing me a song." He uttered.

Sansa wasn't sure if it was the combination of the wine, the fight, and the closeness of death, but Sandor's voice was gentle now. He had asked for songs before, but this time, it didn't sound like a command. Sansa obliged and sang the first song that came to her. The mother's hymn. She sang softly and quietly, with explosions and screaming in the background.

When she finished, she felt the tension gone from The Hound's body. She reached up and touched the burned side of his face. She felt a wetness, that was not the dried blood, but tears. For a moment, he laid his head in her hand but quickly pulled away, leaving her against the wall.

He walked over to her pillow and reached underneath it. She saw him pull out a rose. He looked at it and kept his back to her. "I'm going." He started.

"Where?" Sansa blurted out, walking over to him.

"Some place that isn't burning. North, might be. Could be..." He confessed. He turned around, facing Sansa. "I put this under your pillow, and was going to leave, but I couldn't walk out of this room...I had to see you once more, to ask you..."

"Ask me what?" Sansa whispered.

The Hound finally looked up from the rose at her. He handed her the flower and watched her smell it. "I could take you with me? I'd keep you safe." He said nervously. "Do you want to go home?"

He said his grandfather told him to story of the lady's gift, Sansa thought. That meant he knew of bringing the lady a flower upon his return. Sansa looked up at him, and for the first time, she looked at his face, with out fear, with out doubt, and with out anger. Her eyes widened at the sudden realization, something she should've known all along.

"You won't hurt me." She declared.

Sandor was taken aback by her words for a moment. "No little bird, I won't hurt you." He said in a voice as honest as the mother's hymn.

They looked at each other for so long Sansa was sure he was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes, but when she did not feel him, she opened them and saw his back to her walking toward her door.

"No!" She shouted. She rushed the her dresser, and pulled out a few small clothes. She ran to her jewelry box and pulled out everything. She would sell it all if she had to. She stuffed all her belongings into a velvet bag, and tied her dark blue hooded cloak around her neck. "One more thing..." She walked back to her dresser, and knelt down opening the bottom drawer. She pulled out a white kings guard cloak. The one Sandor wrapped around her when Joffrey ordered Ser Meryn to strip her in front of the whole court. She did not want to leave the thing that gave her comfort in this place. She shoved it in her velvet bag, slung it over her shoulder and picked up the rose. She wanted to know what made him decide to give it to her, but she figured they had a long journey ahead of them, and she would have plenty of time to find out. She stood in front of him, ready.

"Are you sure, little bird?"

She smiled at him. "Yes, Sandor. Take me home."


End file.
